


Only One Honour

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Alexander Trilogy - Mary Renault
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-20
Updated: 2005-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:30:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There's only one honour I want tonight."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only One Honour

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary directly from _Fire from Heaven_. Thanks to Mousapelli for handholding on AIM, especially in regard to the whole underwear issue. *g* Oh, and there's one line paraphrased from _The Iliad_.

_'Alexander. I think you should go back to the komos. The King will be missing you."_

 _'Kleitos can sing much louder.' He looked round at the still shapes, the dried blood blackened by moonlight, the palely shining bronze. 'It is better here among friends.'_

 _'It's only right you should be seen. It's a victory komos. You were first through the line. He waited for that.'_

 _'Everyone knows what I did. There's only one honour I want tonight; to have it said I wasn't there.' He pointed at the wobbling torchlight._

 _'Come, then,' said Hephaistion. They went down to the water and washed the blood from their hands. Hephaistion loosened his shoulder-cloak and wrapped it around both of them. They walked on by the river into the hanging shadow of the willows fed by the stream._ ~ _Fire from Heaven_ , page 283

***

As they walked along the riverbank, Alexander leaned into him, seeking always the comfort of touch that he would never ask for with words; the night was cool even under his cloak, and sharing the heat of their bodies was much more pleasant anyway, Hephaistion thought. The chill he felt was not only in the air, of course, but from the proximity of the dead -- honored, yes, but still the enemy, though Hephaistion couldn't find it in himself to hate them, even as they had tried to kill him, and more importantly, to kill Alexander. That was war. He was a soldier, and he was good at it, but he didn't love war the way Alexander did; it was quick and chaotic and while his body -- well-trained as all the Macedonian soldiers were -- thrilled to it, his mind and heart were less enthralled.

He could tell Alexander was reliving the battle again, the way he had broken the Sacred Band, his mind replaying each move each army had made, imprinting the errors and weak points, filing away the successful strategies, remembering the names and faces of the men who had fought well, who had been injured, who had died, so he might speak knowledgeably to them or their loved ones when the time came for such meetings.

Alexander had no fear, admitted no doubt, and Hephaistion could only pray and keep hope in his heart that the gods never turned away from him. It would be too much to hope that the gods never noticed him at all -- he was too bright, too sharp, too destined for greatness to escape their jealous attention.

Alexander's eyes shone like the river water in the moonlight, and to call him back from where his mind had wandered, Hephaistion wrapped a hand around his wrist, the bones strong, the pulse steady under his fingers.

Alexander turned to him and smiled, teeth gleaming white, and Hephaistion kissed him. He could taste wine and sweet, crisp apples, always his prince's favorite, as Alexander opened to him, one hand coming up to cup his cheek, the other to slip into his hair, the touch sending new shivers down his spine, shivers of heat and need.

Without breaking the kiss, Hephaistion guided him back against the trunk of one of the old willows lining the bank, the overhanging branches giving them some semblance of privacy. Not that it mattered -- everyone else was at the komos, no doubt getting up to worse, and even if anyone had seen, there was no shame in their love.

Hephaistion slid his lips along Alexander's jaw, and then beneath to lick at the fluttering pulse there, beating more rapidly now. It never failed to amaze and arouse him that he could have such an effect on Alexander, and it did not fail now. Heat pooled low in his belly, his cock hardening at the press of Alexander's body against him. He ran the backs of his fingers tenderly over Alexander's face, feeling soft skin and stubble, before skating over his chest to lay the flat of his palm over Alexander's heart.

Alexander laid his own hand atop it, strong and callused, nails clean and neatly clipped. "Hephaistion."

Hephaistion looked up from kissing Alexander's neck, wondering if he was asking too much; most men after battle used sex to celebrate their survival. To Alexander, it was somehow always a reminder that one day he would die.

"Alexander." He caught his breath at the intensity of Alexander's quicksilver eyes, bright as the moon and a million times hotter.

Alexander pulled him into another kiss, this one hungry, fierce, tongue sliding slick-rough against tongue. Hephaistion moaned low in his throat, hands already slipping beneath Alexander's chiton, fingers skilled at weaving through clothing to find what he wanted most to touch. Alexander laughed breathlessly, mimicking his actions and then gasping when Hephaistion's hand curled around him and stroked, slow and sure. Again, he mirrored Hephaistion's movements, and Hephaistion had to close his eyes and rest his head against Alexander's shoulder to steady himself when Alexander wrapped a warm hand around him.

They traded kisses and touches, the only sound their ragged breathing and the rush of the river beside them. Alexander threw his head back against the tree, tendons in his neck standing out in sharp relief as he strained towards his release, fingers tightening on Hephaistion's cock as he came with a low moan and murmured promises of love. Hephaistion loved seeing him like this, beautiful and free and wholly himself, loved knowing that no one else had him in quite the same way, or ever would.

He pressed his lips to Alexander's temple, damp with sweat, and thrust into Alexander's grip, spilling himself with a hoarse cry Alexander swallowed with a kiss, his whole body alight with pleasure.

It was right, he thought, when he could think again, that they should celebrate this victory in this fashion, pledging themselves to each other again, as the men of the Sacred Band had, always to strive to be the best, to bear each other up, to be worthy of the vow. For himself, he wanted only to be worthy of Alexander's love, and his destiny -- this was the oath he took with every breath, every touch, every kiss.

He told Alexander, who smiled through the after-sadness, which pleased him. "Yes," Alexander said, and gave him another lingering kiss before they cleaned themselves with water from the stream, and headed back to camp.

end

***


End file.
